Exclusive | Inside the quietest home in the world

When he designed and built his home sweet home, one thing mattered most to Turkish architect Onurcan Cakir: calm. But it wasn’t just because he craved blissful silence.

His house, located in southwest Turkey, is made from dense materials that block outside noise. The double doors and heavy windows are hermetically sealed, avoiding gaps that could allow noise to pass through. One of the three bedrooms – a sort of “panic room” for times when the noise outside is particularly jarring – has very thick walls.

Such principles would work for anyone seeking worry-free tranquility. Cakir, however, created his home as a case study not only for those seeking an acoustic paradise, but also for those seeking quiet as a medical necessity, as he does for a rare hearing disorder.

When the house was completed 10 years ago, Cakir received some recognition in architecture and design publications, both for his house’s natural materials and for its unique acoustic qualities. Now, in a recent article published in “Civil Engineering and Architecture,” Cakir describes a “quiet house typology” – architectural principles for creating a house that is as quiet as possible.

One goal, he said, was to set guidelines that could benefit other people who also need to control their sound environment.

In 2009, while studying music and working at high volumes with headphones, Cakir suffered a noise injury, sometimes called acoustic trauma. He was left with tinnitus, or ringing in the ears, as well as a sound sensitivity known as hyperacusis, where ordinary sounds are perceived as terribly loud.

“Since that time, I have had to protect myself from everyday noises,” he told the Post. “People don’t understand how hard it is to have pain from noise. I don’t leave the house without earplugs.”

At the time, Cakir’s severe form of hyperacusis was so little known that there wasn’t even a term for it.

But in recent years, this severe form has been identified as painful hyperacusis, sometimes called noxacusis, where everyday noises cause throbbing, burning, persistent ear pain. Cakir’s biggest difficulty comes from digital, electronic or artificially amplified sound.

Over time, through the Internet, he learned that “there are people in the world who have almost the same problems and feel almost the same things as me, which has made me feel more confident about my condition and feel less alone,” he told the Post.

Unwanted noise is a nuisance for many people and a health risk for some, with negative effects on cardiovascular function as well as hearing, said Steven Barad, a retired physician and president of the nonprofit Hyperacusis Research, which funds research into noise-induced pain.

“The home should be a sanctuary, but a home is usually not quiet unless someone silences it,” he told the Post. “We hear from people who move several times in search of calm. »

Yet they usually trade one uncontrolled noise for another. “In the suburbs, even people without hearing problems suffer so much from motorized lawn equipment that some municipalities restrict leaf blowers,” he said. “In collective buildings with shared walls, noise from surrounding neighbors is a major source of conflicts. »

But Barad disputes the idea that the quietest house in the world is in Türkiye. It may be Northern California, occupied by his 34-year-old son, who as a teenager suffered serious acoustic injuries from loud music.

“My son’s house is in a secluded location, with soundproof windows,” he said. “Even so, it’s impossible to block out all the noise.” His son still has to endure the distant traffic, the crowing of roosters and the drumming of woodpeckers.

“Unfortunately, not everyone with painful hyperacusis can afford to live in a quiet enough environment,” Barad said, “and they need to control ambient noise as best they can.”

Cakir discovered that his native Istanbul – Europe’s largest city with a population of around 16 million – was unlivable. The planes buzzing overhead made it difficult to sleep. The low bass, particularly difficult to block, bled through the walls of his apartment, where the neighbors were either partying college students or hard-of-hearing seniors with loud televisions. “Everyone watches television and it is considered normal to leave the television on during the day,” he said.

So he moved to a small village called Barbaros, near Izmir, on the Aegean Sea. He now works as an associate professor at Izmir Democracy University, specializing in architectural acoustics.

Certain types of buildings take acoustics into account – concert halls are a perfect example – but acoustic comfort is systematically neglected when it comes to homes. Residential building codes rarely take noise transmission into account.

“It’s usually easier to start from scratch rather than trying to find and fix all the problem parts of an existing building,” Cakir said.

To block out outside noise, his single-family home, just 900 square feet, has dense exterior walls – 20 inches thick – made of stone, brick and insulation. The panic room is reinforced with concrete and covered with air cavities and mineral wool, often called rock wool. It features double doors and triple-glazed windows with layers of air between the panes, which dampen sound transmission.

“I think there is a misunderstanding about soundproofing, even among architects,” Cakir said. Flexible connections between building elements are necessary to avoid vibration transfer. Windows and doors must be airtight, without the slightest gap.

Just as water can seep through any space, sound can also seep through. “When there’s a small space, most of the thorough insulation you’ve done is wasted,” Cakir said.

Indoors, however, echo can be easily reduced with soft furnishings and carpets, which absorb sound and reduce reverberation time.

Even in the small village of Cakir, with little road traffic and a population of 400, wedding celebrations take place within earshot.

Turkish weddings often take place in a village square. “Everyone knows each other and the villagers like to party together,” Cakir said. He therefore stays in his silent room all the time, doors and windows closed.

Its village is also known for the annual Barbaros Scarecrow Festival. When it debuted in 2016, Cakir was invited to participate, so he was in charge of the music. “I called it ‘unplugged street music,’ without electricity or speakers,” he said. “So it was a really nice festival the first year.”

But the festival grew and things changed. The music is now amplified. During the festival, Cakir stays sheltered at home or leaves.

To avoid sound processing on a TV or computer, it always uses subtitles. He avoids restaurants and cafes because of the intolerable background music.

Cakir, now 39 years old, lives in his quiet house with his wife, also an architect, whom he met in a natural building materials workshop, and their 3-year-old daughter, as well as two dogs who rarely bark.

“There’s this thing for kids called ‘Gabby’s Dollhouse,'” Cakir said. “I had to learn it now that I have a 3-year-old daughter. When she goes to her grandmother’s house, she can listen to these things, but not at home.” Instead, she watches television with subtitles, even though she can’t read yet.

“Luckily my little girl is very understanding and aware that everyone in the house needs to stay quiet,” Cakir said. “It’s weird, I know, but we manage to live together somehow.”

More importantly, “I can control the noise inside a single-family home,” he said. “It’s not attached to another house so I don’t have a problem with neighbors’ noise through the wall. Having respectful and understanding neighbors is a matter of chance, as they will be one of the main sources of noise.”